Lost
by Aviator Dark
Summary: When you see someone you love, love someone else, what is there to think of? You become broken and hurt. It's to be expected. The healing process, too, takes an unimaginably long time. It depends on yourself, doesn't it? How do I know things as such? I've been through it, many times before, and once again I face that feeling.


To watch as he gains her heart, as your own soul shatters, witnessing her accept his confession. A dimness just shadows you, as you feel your own heart breaking, because he's there for her and you're not. But alas, what else can I say? He was her significant other, from then on. And who was I? Just a friend? After all we've been through together, she left me for him?

Well, I can see why. I'm stuck as who I am, being the imperfect one who never gets it right. And what about him, the one who stole her heart before I realized what was happening? Sure, she and I never had a true relationship, but we knew each other longer than he knew her.

I let them say, 'nobody is perfect.' Why? Because it's true. No one can achieve success without giving something away in return. That makes you lose something in order to gain something. Because of that, we can't be perfect. But we can be wonderful people, and that's what we strive to do. Every hour, every minute, every second.

And yet when you face depression, there's no way out until you learn to forget it. And that's the hard part. When you see someone you love, love someone else, what is there to think of? You become broken and hurt. It's to be expected. The healing process, too, takes an unimaginably long time. It depends on yourself, doesn't it?

How do I know things as such? I've been through it, many times before, and once again I face that feeling. 'Is there no way out?' you ask. 'There's nothing left to live for.' But you have a reason to be here, don't you? When you try to convince yourself that she'll be happy with him, and that you can still be her best friend...

No. I want to be more than her best friend. She may see me as a buddy of hers, but I don't. I _love _her. It's that simple. You can't change what you feel in your heart. When you try to, it gets far more complicated. Your emotions twist and turn, and then you'll have to choose to either run or fight it. It's painful to do both. It's your choice, in the end.

And what about her? What does she think of me? Nothing. She thinks I'm happy to see her with him, when in truth I'm sinking away in a pit of misery. I can't look back, you might say, but I'll have to. I can't just let her be with him. It hurts me far worse than you can possible think of. What does it feel like, exactly?

Your heart's an apple and the pain is maggots. Your sanity is an anvil and your mind is a shoestring. Your love for her is a leaf and _his _love for her is a tornado. You're basically the moon, she's the Earth, and he's the sun.

He lights up her days, bathing her in the finest, gentlest rays of golden-thread sunlight, an aurum brilliance that makes her smile and laugh. Sometimes he hurts her a little too far, but she can't live without him. And what am I, the moon! The satellite that shines a dim, silver light that is far weaker than what he could give her during the day. All I did was accompany her during those times when she was feeling down. I shine stone-cold gazes and she would not care. I glow my brightest and she barely bats an eye.

I confess that my comparison is rather weak as an argument and is quite unrealistic and illogical. However, in a more poetic way of telling, what I have told you is true. In every way possible, I tell you the truth. This is what I'm feeling. He's Paradise, but I'm not Hell; I'm a cold, Arctic desert with a churning river of icy emotions. What am I when placed next to him? Nothing?

For today, I will remain silent when my eyes come across her arms around his. I do not despise her, neither do I hate him. She is not the thorn in my heart and he is not the sword in my chest. However, _they _can be what's slowly killing me inside, consuming my lucidity. Seeing them together is what freezes my heart, thaws it, and freezes it again until it cannot handle the changes and ultimately shatters into a million pieces, just because I've always watched her from the shadows and never had the chance to confess to her properly. It's my fault for not making my move quicker.

Playing cards used to be a hobby of mine, but when it is placed as a connotation, and that she would have been my Queen of Hearts, it even sounds heartbreaking. You may or may not be able to have guessed the name of the heartkillers, but do I even need to tell you? I don't think I need to hint. Those brunette locks framing her jade green eyes. That's all I can tell you, because I don't want to mention her name. Just a sweet little brown-haired, sports-loving young woman who I can't love anymore. And that blonde man she's always loved more than me. She—_you_—would have been _mi chica._

It's almost like I'm invisible. You can't see me, can you, my love? Ah, _mi amor, _we would have been wonderful together. But with him, it seems, you are simply perfect. Without me. It's okay, really, but I'm alone here now. You wouldn't think that I would attempt to goad a certain redhead into my trap, would you? No, I can't, not after I lost you. You meant everything to me.

But is this all a dream? To wake up and start all of this over again, would be by greatest wish. For my love, once a candle, burns as a great inferno, a torrent of flame that would reduce anything to ashes. Anything but you. But I really am invisible in your eyes, aren't I?

Without you, I have nothing to cling to anymore.


End file.
